


Fracture

by PepperPrints



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-18
Updated: 2013-05-18
Packaged: 2017-12-12 05:02:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/807577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PepperPrints/pseuds/PepperPrints
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>RE5 AU. Wesker is captured, rather than killed, and suffers for the power of his own creation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fracture

**Author's Note:**

> For the 30_kisses challenge. Prompt: invincible; unrivaled.

It was about halfway through the flight when Wesker started screaming.

 

Uroboros and the virus in his blood were fighting for dominance, and it was impossible to say which one would win – if Wesker managed to survive at all. Despite how he was advised against it, Chris couldn't stand by and listen to this anymore. He entered the containment area where Wesker was kept prisoner, and he found him curled up pitiably on the floor.

 

Chris didn't feel much threat when he came forward. The effects of Uroboros had mostly faded now, leaving behind only a few writhing tendrils curling around Wesker's arms, binding up to his throat, but it no longer consumed him. There were more of those black stains on his skin, jagged marks left behind by Uroboros, and that seemed to be the least of his concerns.

 

Wesker was clutching at the sides of his head with scarred, shackled hands. He snarled and hissed in pain, the same way he had when Chris and Sheva hit him with the injection. Chris wondered idly if Wesker remembered what this kind of pain was like; he had long thought himself above such things.

 

The moment that the pain cleared enough for Wesker to notice his presence, the reaction was immediate. Slowly, his hands lowered from his face, and Chris saw the change come over him. His eyes glowed, going wide and bright with fury, and his mouth twisted open in a snarl.

 

“Get out!” Wesker demanded, his voice broken as he seethed. “Go!”

 

The volume of his own shouting seemed to be too loud for him to bear: Wesker clutched at his head again, letting out a wounded moan of pain. Chris stiffened and he almost did leave; he didn't know what made him stay. He didn't think Wesker would attack him now of all times, not after what had happened. He was furious, though, more than Chris had ever seen before. Being caught like this, seen to be so helpless, must have been infuriating. Chris wondered if Wesker had ever been so vulnerable in his life.

 

Now that he thought about it, he wasn't sure Wesker even had the strength left to attack him.

 

Chris knelt down beside him, and Wesker jerked back somewhat. His expression twisted into disgust, and Chris assumed that it was partially at his own weakness. Wesker usually didn't allow such frailty from other people, let alone himself.

 

“Don't touch me,” he hissed, recoiling as Chris reached for him. Chris narrowed his eyes, the defiance only spurring him on. He took hold of chain on Wesker's cuffs and used it to pull his hands down, exposing him again.

 

“Shut up,” Chris said, blunt enough to take Wesker off guard. Wesker's eyes widened in shock, and Chris really shouldn't have found it so satisfying.

 

For so long, Wesker seemed untouchable, and now he was breaking down. Chris knew that it wasn't just physical; something had shattered in his mind as well. Chris didn't know enough to say he understood it, but it had to do with that day at the Spencer Estate, and Project Wesker.

 

What did it feel like to have your whole world shatter?

 

Wesker grabbed for Chris when his tremors started up again, unsteady hands twisting into his shirt, and apparently not all his power was gone, because Chris could feel the material tearing. Chris said nothing, and he wasn't sure if Wesker was capable of speaking himself; he might have been in too much pain.

 

As if he could feel the thoughts in Chris's mind, Wesker struggled forward, his teeth grinding as he forced noise of his throat, the sounds raw and weak. “Chris...” he managed.

 

Chris kept his mouth shut. He wasn't going anywhere.

 

Wesker appeared less desperate now. He still didn't seem able to take in a full breath, his chest heaving and his body twitching, but he wasn't crying out. Jaw tightly clenched, he reigned himself in to some semblance of control. Chris wondered how much of that was due to him not wanting to seem weak in front of his rival – if that word even applied anymore.

 

Dragging himself forward, Wesker sunk forward and bowed his head, pillowing himself on Chris's thigh.

 

No, Chris thought, it probably didn't apply.

 

“I was going to become a God,” rasped Wesker, his voice left scratchy from his screams. “But you would never worship me...”

 

“Atheist,” muttered Chris unthinkingly.

 

Wesker gave out a choked cough. Belatedly, Chris realized that it was a failed attempt to laugh. With how strained the sound was, he couldn't tell if it was genuine or mocking. He didn't think he ever heard Wesker laugh in any way that wasn't at someone else's expense.

 

Wesker shuddered, swallowing thickly, and his breaths were shallow, but steadier. “I had hoped you would remain human,” he murmured weakly.

 

Chris didn't know how to respond to that. He was silent, glancing down at Wesker in surprise and suspicion. “Funny way of showing it,” he observed, and he should have left it at that, but he continued. “Why was that so important?”

 

Why was _he_ so damn important?

 

Wesker did not reply right away. His eyes were open but turned away from Chris, his lips parted for his shortened breathing. “Surely you know your own worth,” he replied, which wasn't an answer at all; he was dodging.

 

“Yeah,” he said lowly, “but what does that mean to you?”

 

Wesker said nothing, and Chris let the silence drag out before he became fed up with it. Honestly, it wasn't like he expected anything else. He sighed in frustration, shaking his head, but when he moved to rise, Wesker's hand caught tight around his wrist to still him. Chris paused, finding Wesker staring up at him with gleaming eyes.

 

“Stay a moment longer.”

 

Chris narrowed his eyes, but even as he relented, Wesker did not release his hand. He held it and drew it close enough to kiss, his lips pressed against Chris's knuckles. The gesture gave him pause, his eyes going wide. It wasn't quite as intense as it could have been, but something about it still seemed incredibly compromising.

 

Chris moved tentatively, laying his free hand on Wesker's head, and he slowly curled his fingers into messy hair. Wesker's eyes fluttered and closed, his next exhale coming in a heavy sigh.

 

They stayed like that for the rest of the flight, and Wesker didn't scream again.


End file.
